


A fickle thing

by Sevik



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26695354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevik/pseuds/Sevik
Summary: Again, a bit rusty at writing fanfiction.Enjoy the merman AU.  :3No beta we die like romansZolf is a fisherman and he is on a ship. Wilde is... uuuh... somewhere too. ;)
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 38
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

His stomach grumbled. Zolf ignored it and instead focused on the book, reverently turning another page. He'd set sail for home soon anyway. The winds would pick up and home was almost in reach. No cause to worry.

Zolf's lost a great many things to the sea over the years. She's a fickle thing, alternating between being mildly annoying and life-threatening in a matter of hours. She took from him his brother, his leg and, most recently and of a lot less consequence, his lunch. He was annoyed, sure, but by this point he was beginning to worry. Technically, mathematically, statistically (yes he knew words, he reads!) - how likely was it to lose his food and drink to the sea so often, so many times with gleaming accuracy?

Not at all. The sea was fickle. She wouldn't do that to him three days in a row.

The first times, it could have been the seagulls, but they knew better now than to try again. The other times... sure, an occasional mean sweep of a wave and it could have been washed overboard, but the waters were still now. 

Zolf turned around, checking the deck once more. Had he heard something clatter? Creak? Or had he been too absorbed in his reading?

It wasn't that he desperately needed that lunchbox. He'd always pack too much, just in case. Three years after his brothers death and he still packed for two. Losing a lunch wouldn't kill him. There was plenty in his supplies and if it came down to it, well, judging by the stretch of the taunt rope holding the net, he could always eat some fish. 

There. On the deck just close enough to where his lunch had been, he found a scratch, no, scratches. It wasn't the first. He'd seen them before and paid them no mind. Zolf had figured that they'd come from dragging an old barrel or crate. There were plenty of those on board and safely secured. He couldn't tell if the scratches were fresh or not.

Why would they be fresh? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. It implied somebody or something had been here. Why had he thought that? 

Zolf cast another look around. Being on the open waters alone was foolish. Not only was he more prone to accidents, but also there was the risk of going mad. Was he finally snapping? He'd had trouble concentrating on his reading for the past two days. Had he ignored the feeling of being watched? Had there really been anything out of the ordinary at all?

Taking a deep breath, he knelt down on one knee and ran a hand over the scratches. The edges felt sharp and the pattern was too - he gulped - the lines were too close, too distinct to ignore. And there were a lot of them.

Breathing heavily, he had another horrifying thought. The "sea" hadn't just taken his lunches over the past weeks. Even when docked securely on the small landing stage things had gone missing. A part of a rope, torn off. A hook. A knife he'd left stuck in a beam. A piece of cloth hanging on the inside of the tiny cabin. He'd blamed it on the curious kids who'd sometimes run along the shores, searching for pretty shells - What if something were to happen to them? 

Zolf grabbed the knife, still in its sheath on his belt. He could defend himself, if the need arose. Furthermore, now that he was sure that there was indeed someTHING sneaking around on HIS ship, he could prepare. The dwarf had heard tales of merpeople before but had never believed them to be true. He knew all the fish in the sea and not once had he caught a... a person. 

Usually, as far as the wild tales went, they were only trouble for sailors once they went overboard. Appearently, their bites stung and their claws left ugly marks. The claw part, that Zolf was not willing to believe.

He walked over to the railing, looking down to the shimmering surface, dancing lights and ripples betraying the depth. There was no way he could inspect the ship's hull from here. Keeping a close eye on the water below, he looked and listened for anything out of the ordinary. 

Nothing. Just relatively still water, barely any wind blowing. He saw no suspicious movement down below. He clicked his tongue and leaned on the railing for a bit, just... waiting. After everything, after all the hardship, after all this time, the open, calm waters still had its effect on him. Staring towards the horizon, he could make out the coast and another ship or two. The world seemed still and quiet.

For the second time of the day, Zolf felt watched. It was a creeping feeling but now that he knew it COULD happen, he felt the mounting sensation a lot more, was not surprised by any sense of dread or unease. Immediately, he cast his eyes downward again. He was so sure that there was something - someone watching him. He expected to see a horrifying face, gleaming eyes and fangs to stare back at him, but nothing breached the surface. Even if it was just below the surface, surely he could make it out? He drew his knife and held his breath.

It's not his eyes that were playing tricks on him, he realized. It was his ears. He could hear the faint sound of the waves lapping at his ship, but the sound was too quiet. It should have been a lot louder. Pushing himself of the railing, he turned to get the anchor. There was no way he would stay out here, alone and without anything to counter magic. Surely the creature must be using magic to-

It was on board. Just to his left, where he had been sitting minutes before, was a merman. His long, colorful tail almost completely onboard and holding tight to the floor with one clawed hand, the other outstretched to reach for the only item left on the bolted down chair: The book Zolf had been reading. The limited edition Harrison Campell "Passions Collide", signed and kept in pristine condition, only to be read on rare occasions, gifted to him by his brother-

"Don't ye fuckin' dare...", Zolf drawled in a low voice that would have surprised him in any other situation.

The creature flinched, his dark eyes flickering between the book and Zolf.

"Noo...!" He took a step forward, hand on his knife. If this... thing wasn't threatening his most priced posession he might have called it beautiful or breathtaking. But that ship had sailed. "You can take my lunch. And my knife. And any trinket. But not. My. Book." Another step. 

The merman's eyes flickered to Zolf's missing leg, seemed to measure the distance between them, back to the book and back to the approaching fisherman.  
Zolf knew he'd lose that race if it came down to it. And the merman knew as well. Very carefully, deliberately the merman stretched and laid a single, clawed finger on the book, his eyes never leaving Zolf's - and Zolf charged as fast as his peg leg allowed him.

Just as predicted, the merman was faster, it's muscled tail and fluid movements reminding Zolf of a snake as it slithered back into the water. Seconds later, Zolf stood at the railing again, this time facing the open ocean instead of the coastline, staring daggers into the sea and muttering cursesunder his breath. There were tears too, but that's not part of the story as he would later tell it to his friend Sasha, neither to Hamid, even though he knew Hamid would not have minded. Only after showing them the claw marks onboard, especially after the hasty retreat of the - the monster, they believed him.

Hamid tried to convince him to stay home for a longer time, to give up fishing for a season and live off his savings. The halfling offered to help out financially, if needed.

Sasha suggested they go hunt the guy down. Needless to say, Zolf liked her suggestion a lot better.


	2. Chapter 2

~*~ Six days after the malicious theft and destruction of Zolf Smith's most priced posession ~*~

"I don't- I could do without the- the ups and downs, Zolf..." Hamid was sitting down on the bolted chair, his eyes shut. To think he had been just fine minutes ago, while the ship had sailed through wave after wave. Even stood right at the bow next to Sasha. They'd lowered the sail and were about to lay out their trap. Now, without the thrill of soaring forward, all his confidence was gone. 

"Focus on the horizon!", Sasha yelled from the bow.

Hamid very much preferred to not add any more movement to the already too much constant and overwhelming movement he was experiencing. "N-No thank you!", he yelled back and immediately felt like vomiting again.

Zolf gently clapped him on the shoulder and handed him a spare bucket, just in case.

"So when's the nasty usually rearin' it's ugly head, mh? You said lunch was missing?"

Both men jumped a little at the sudden closeness, but Sasha just was like that.

"Yea. Usually. I think he takes to the noon. Makes it harder for one to spot him underwater." Zolf had had a lot of time to think about all of this, time to recall every little detail. His first instinct, the feeling of being watched, had been correct. It was only when he'd been busy reading or preoccupied with maintenance that things had gone missing while on sea. And mostly during or close to noon. Appearently the merman used magic to dampen his own noises while crawling onboard.

Hamid had read up on that particular behaviour and had found that it was, so far, unheard of. An exception. And Hamid had asked Zolf all kinds of question about the creat- the merman's look.

Zolf could not have given any clear description afterwards. He'd been so surprised and then angry, all he'd seen was a pretty face with dark brown hair and dark eyes and that long, muscular tail, resembling more of a snake than a fish if it hadn't been for the prominent tail fin. That, well, and the claws. The hands had looked "normal", almost human, but the tips had ended in sharp, long, almost rose-colored claws. 'But the color?', Hamid had insisted, 'what about the color of his tail?' And Zolf had shook and nodded his head. Just - yes. Colors. All of them. All at once. Like a rainbow, but all over the place, moving and shifting. Boy, for someone reading so many novels he sure still sucked at the words-thing.

Also: It didn't matter. It didn't matter what the bastard looked like. The knife it, no, HE had taken had also been one of his brother's. But it hadn't hurt as much as the book. If he'd been challenged to rank the gravity of his loss, first would have been his brother, then the book, then his leg. Zolf could do without a leg. But the book hurt.

"Alright, so what's the plan, capt'n?" Sasha stood next to the mast, a knife in hand and plunged into it to keep her steady. She looked as if she belonged there and Zolf wondered why he hadn't taken her out for a trip earlier. Hamid, on the other hand... He wondered how much use the halfling would be in the end.

"You know the plan.", he said.

"I mean, yeah, but like, right now. For now?" She gestured around them to the open sea with no buildings to climb and no pockets to rifle through.

"We wait. He might not rear his head at all, now that there's three of us and I caught him last time-"

"Well, yeah, but you didn't catch him though?" Sasha yanked her knife out of the mast and it disappeared somewhere under her vest.

Hamid snickered and immediately regretted his decision to take part in any conversation.

"Fair. For now- You have the scroll and the emergency net. And Hamid has his magic." As for Zolf, he had his dagger and silver-lined rope with the weights. It hadn't been cheap, but if they could catch the menace, there might even be a reward and not to mention the satisfaction of ruining the bastard's life.

"A-and are we sure that it-he is a threat? I mean-"

"He took my novel!", Zolf yelled. "He looked me dead in the eye and took it. He even came to the shore! Basically my doorstep! He could have murdered me in my sleep!"

Hamid clutched the bucket tight and close, his only shield against a cruel and watery world.

"It's just too dangerous, is all.", Sasha agreed. "Curiosity kills the cat, ey?"

"I like cats.", Hamid mumbled, feeling a bit better despite the gentle rocking of the ship.

And just like that, with his two friends on board, Zolf did not experience that lingering feeling of being watched. He made sure to check down the railings and to leave a lunchbox out in the open, even dreamily stared out to the horizon multiple times, but nothing happened. By the end of the first day, Sasha had reclined and was lazily fishing alongside the boat, the fishing rod tucked in next to her. Hamid was slowly walking along the railing, making his rounds, alternating between joining Sasha and Zolf. No one had caught a glimpse of the merman.

And so they tried the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

"He's a clever one. I'll give'm that.", Sasha nodded at the end of an entire week. "Singling out his target. Smart."

Hamid shudders at the thought, then says: "Maybe they have rules, you know? Like the fey? Something along the lines of - now that you've seen him, he can never come back?"

Zolf snorts and Sasha chuckles.

"Well I don't see you coming up with any ideas?", his voice gaining yet a higher pitch.

An amicable silence falls over them shortly after, despite the little banter.

When they settle down for the night in Zolf's small cabin at the shore, it is Hamid who speaks up again, a sad note in his quiet voice: "I have to go back to London soon."

Zolf knew he couldn't keep them here forever to chase the needle in the haystack but to think that an entire week had gone by so quickly? He hadn't felt lonely, not a single day.

And oh- so- he had actually been lonely before. He'd gotten so used to the feeling...

It would hurt a lot once they were both back in the city. The first few days were always the hardest.

"I can stay some more, Zolf. S'not a problem." She patted his back awkwardly with a bit too much distance between them.

Zolf didn't hold it against her. She was trying her best to console him. It felt nice.

"Thanks. But you don't have to. I have a feeling it's over anyway and I heard Hamid's carriage is real nice." He didn't want to keep her here. He knew she was bored in the evenings and he wasn't the best of company. Plus, he wasn't lying. For some reason, he was sure that the merman hadn't even been close to the ship.

The next morning they did not set sail and instead had a lazy morning, a hearty breakfast and quick farewells. Hamid promised to write and asked for many letters in return. Sasha offered to stay, again, which Zolf declined. They hugged, with Hamid even hugging Sasha once before realizing that that made no sense. Not now, at least.

"Do keep in touch. Please?" Hamid asked and Zolf agreed, making a mental note to buy more paper.

The very first night on his own he tried his hardest to convince himself that this is what he wanted. That a quiet home was the best home. That finally, he could return to how he was used to do things, but his small bedroom felt so big, the quiet and the sound of the waves far off at the shore almost deafening.

Being inside would not do. He threw on his jacket, packed his cap and lantern and decided to check on his ship, just to make sure it was up and ready in the morning, just as he would be, no doubt.

He'd barely stepped on the landing stage when he heard the sound of something heavy dropping into the water. Zolf stoof still and listened. He could hear him, slowly but surely he was making his way through the water, and close to the surface too, otherwise he doubted he would have heard the merman at all.

Taking another step he cursed the sound of his peg leg on the wood, but, as far as he could tell, the merman must still be closeby. Spending the week with both Sasha and Hamid, he'd managed to calm down significantly. And truth be told, at this point, he had adopted Hamid's point of view more than Sasha's. Sure, he still wanted to capture the merman, but mostly to teach it a lesson. A comeback. It would have been a capture and release.

"Pss pss?" He called out, not really thinking about why he found it appropriate to try and lure a cat. "Uh... here kitty kitty?" 

A melodius "Meow?" rang over the waters, followed by a stifled, warm laughter.

"Oy!", Zolf stamped down on the landing stage, casting the light of his lantern left and right. He was angry. But also amused. He jumped at the gentle knock from right under him, from just below the landing stage. He could now see all the colors again, at the right angle cracking through the larger gaps in the wooden planks, shimmering around him. Zolf didn't like being toyed with. He didn't like to be this vulnerable either. "Come on, get up. Show yourself! You got a lot to answer for."

In the light of his lantern, he saw the waters to his right part and he turned towards it. The clawed hands reached out and on top of the landing and in one, fluid motion, the merman lifted his torso and some of his tail out of the water. Zolf, startled by the sudden forwardness, took a step back, his peg leg nearly missing the end of the landing. The merman settled onto the landing with his elbows propped up and face in hands, adopting a perfectly languid pose. Behind him his tail kept gently swaying left and right. Zolf's heart skipped a beat. He was the most beautiful and perfect being Zolf had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilde sure is a handful huh. 
> 
> Zolf and the merman have a chat and neither asks for names which torments the writer but will hopefully not bother you too much, dear reader.
> 
> Oh and the chat happens at night. In the moonlight. On a landing stage. How romantic. <3

The merman was the most beautiful and perfect being he had ever seen. No wonder he'd had such a hard time describing him to Hamid. Even if the... man... had had legs, he would have been taller than Zolf. The tail he had seen in broad daylight before and knew that, whatever he could make out swooshing among the surface of the sea was but a fraction of it. Once again, the color was hard to pinpoint. The moon and the light of his lantern playing tricks on his eyes as it hit the scales. Zolf felt a flush creep up his neck and settle on his cheeks as he realized just how closely he'd been scrutinizing the crea- the merman. He hoped the other did not notice.

The only two reasons he still felt like pushing the guy off of his landing stage, despite everything, were A) The merman was so obviously posing and being enticing on purpose and B) That git had taken his Harrison Campell novel!

"Well?" Zolf crossed his arms resolutely. "What have you got to say for yourself, mh?"

The merman looked puzzled, his pose faltering slightly as he leaned a little to the side. "Ah. This is... a little unusual now, isn't it?" He looked to the side and combed a hand through his hair, making sure it fell nicely. "You see, I was expecting some declaration of love. Questions about my beauty, begging perha-"

Zolf thought that his voice was definitely lovely, if only it didn't hold that sort of cocky, grating attitude. "Yeah, you're not getting anything like that from me."

There were no hurt feelings in the other's eyes. Instead, if the twinkling was anything to go by, he quiet enjoyed it- whatever IT was. When their eyes met once more, his expression shifted. The merman pulled himself closer to Zolf and leaned forward, turning his torso to face him and asked in a low voice: "And what could I be getting from you instead?"

Zolf gulped. It had been years since he last had any resamblance of such a conversation. And this? This was just too much of everything at the same time. And so, in his quiet panic, he couldn't come up with any response.

The merman sighed theatrically and settled down, propping his head in his hands once more. "You don't talk much. I noticed. Even with the others on the ship. But you seemed happy."

Remembering the past days brought a soft smile on his face. He hadn't felt watched a single time, though. "You were there?" Zolf shook his head as the merman was about to respond. "Doesn't matter. You took my book. It's most likely done for. So what are we going to do about it?"

"Hmm..." He stretched and Zolf could not make out what the expression on his face was about. "Which one?", he asked, feigning ignorance.

"You took more than one?!"

The merman, clearly startled by the tone and volume of Zolf's voice, moved away a bit, eyeing the ocean for a second as if contemplating escape. He visibly reeled himself back in, deciding to stay after all. Or maybe he simply remembered who, between the two, had the claws. "If you could be a little more precise, hmm?"

"The last one. The last thing you took from me."

"Oooh!" That one he seemed to recognize. "Yes. That book. It was not working underwater. Useless. Do you want it back?"

For a moment Zolf was so, so happy at the prospect of getting back his treasure, that he forgot to think about the effects of saltwater on paper. When the cursed knowledge did come back, he had to look away and found himself staring at the gap in the planks between his feet. The pages were soaked. Maybe the ink had dissolved. There wouldn't be anything salvageable left by this point. "No.", he said, sounding crestfallen even to himself.

"Are you sure? Maybe it will work again on the surface?" He sounded hopeful, almost playful.

Zolf didn't care much for that at the moment and stared at him as if he's lost his mind. "Books don't work. They just - you read them." The merman blinked and smiled a little and Zolf knew, he just knew that face. That brat had no idea how books worked. How could he? Did they even have anything written down under the sea? The image of this creature, underwater, trying to comprehend how to just handle, how to make it work... He laughed. "You idiot!", he said between laughs. "You just took it- just because? Why? You didn't even know what it was."

"I-", he huffed and even with the little light of his lantern Zolf could see the other blushing, growing more and more flustered. To his credit, he kept that out of his voice, sounding haughty and collected: "I just wanted to have it. I knew I couldn't eat it, but it seemed... neat."

Too collected and too even, Zolf figured. Two could play the pretend-game. "Alright. If you're not going to tell me the truth, we might as well cut this short-"

The merman audibly gasped. "You wouldn't send me away now, would you?" He sat up, hands behind him, his tail still dangling off the landing stage.

As the other shifted, Zolf, with a bit of a shock, realized a tiny detail. He hadn't placed himself in between Zolf and his way back to the shore. It didn't seem particularly important. It could have just been an accident. But it felt like it was on purpose and Zolf appreciated that a lot. "Why not?", he said instead. "You're nothing but trouble."

He regarded his claws in the way a human might inspect their nails. "I like to think I'm worth it."

Zolf chuckled at that. He'd caught those eyes flicker to him briefly, gauging his reaction. "Pretty sure my book is worth more to me than your esteemed company." He'd meant it as a joke. Almost entirely a joke. The loss still hurt and when he saw that his words had actually stung, he was both happy and angry with himself. Though he had not expected the others face to shift so... drastically.

Where there had been just short of the most beautiful face was now a nasty visage - sharp, predatory angles accompanied by flashing eyes and gleaming fangs. No wonder, Zolf thought, the sailors talked about them as vicious creatures. The snarl that rang in the air sent shivers down his spine and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Maybe he should have listened to Hamid more. Maybe he should have read some of the books his friend had brought along. Zolf took a cautious step back towards the shore.

The merman raised his hands and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He ran them down his hair, smoothing it and tucking it into place, the anger now subsiding as quickly as it had come - and with it came the change back to the smooth, almost human-like face.

Zolf wondered which one was the real one.

"Fine. This is fine. Suit yourself, sailor. I have more important things to attend to anyway." Not waiting for an answer, he hefted himself off the landing stage and disappeared into the water.

For a brief moment, Zolf could see him swim out towards the sea and just like that, the night and the waters had swallowed him. He was shaking, he noticed, now that the adrenaline was leaving his body. Maybe, maybe this was for the better. Having the merman this close and talking (and flirting) had been way too dangerous after all. At least now he was safe again. He was no fan of unpredictability, he told himself resolutely.

And yet, he couldn't help but stand in place for a little while longer, watching the dancing reflections on the open waters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamid just wants to stay in touch! And Zolf does too, I guess?

A parcel arrived, only three days later. It's late in the afternoon and Zolf has not been out at sea. He was never one to let sickness get in the way of his work, but he was also one who did not ignore his hunches, if he could afford to. He'd stayed inside for those three days, nursing his light cold and headache with tea and soup.

The parcel was from Hamid, of course. Zolf could tell by the neat handwriting, his own name never quite looked so good when anybody, including Zolf, wrote it. The small package filled him with joy, even before opening, made him feel better - a lot more than any soup or tea could do. He placed his cup aside, cleared, wiped and dried the table before placing the small package and opening it. Inside were two biscuit tins, a hunting knife and two letters. Both, it appeared, from Hamid. The one with the latest date, appearently written the day they arrived back in London, read: 

  


Dear Zolf,

how are you doing? When our carriage left for London I saw many dark clouds looming on the horizon. I hope the weather and the situation, despite everything, find you well and healthy.

Sasha and I have made it back to London, as you can tell by the parcel and my letter. We did not talk too much on the way home, but found that our little conversation often drifted back to how we both loathed to leave you in such a dreadful situation. No matter how often Sasha has assured me that you would be well equipped to handle this situation I cannot help but worry. Rest assured I will read up on the matter and ask local scholars, friends and acquaintances for any information regarding the merfolk, which I will relay to you as fast as a letter can travel. Did you know there is now a telegram station in Bournemouth? I'm not sure how feasable it would be for you to access. Please do let me know if this is a matter of communication you would be willing to try.

The question of wether or not to invest in a messaging stone has been troubling me. I am aware that it might be inconsiderate to purchase such an expensive item, as it might evoke some ill-placed feelings of - I assure you unnecessary - due recompensation. You might think me a fool to even consider such thoughts as I have come to know and love you as a straighforward sort of man, but I worry too much, which I feel, is just about enough for the both of us. If you could be so kind as to let me know if you would consider me aqcuiring a pair of them not overly brash? Much obliged.

Before parting in London, Sasha and I made sure to purchase some items we found could be useful for your current situation. Sasha told me that the dagger she chose was of a fine quality and I made sure to verify its magical component, which is a strong, yet short paralyzing effect. The good salesman assured us the effect would last mere minutes, ten at most, depending on the person's magical resistance.

The biscuits are from me. Needless to even mention, I know. Please consider them a loving gift, a reparation and a miniscule threat. While we were guests at your home I did so enjoy the few you had and I found eating maybe a bit too many to still be considered a polite amount. As for the miniscule threat - that would be me. I am already planning to come visit soon and I do hope that, by that time, at least one tin has been halfway consumed by you and you alone. 

[Some sentences have been crossed out and were impossible to make out. Zolf could read his own name in them, but that was as far as he could get. Hamid continued:]

Sasha and I send our regards and look forward to hearing from you. She insists I pin down the fact that she did not in any way assist me in writing this letter up until now. All she wishes for you to know is she said: "Hi." and "Go get that bastard." 

Your friends, 

Hamid and Sasha

  


Zolf placed the letter down and allowed himself a small, fond smile at his friends. How often had he written to them during the past year? Had they missed him as much as he had never known he had missed them in return? He eagerly picked up the second letter, the date telling him it was written only a day later. 

  


Dear Zolf,

I must say, I do regret not having seen the merman myself. After having read up on the matter, I am sure he must have been a stunning sight. 

Setting aside my own curiosity, I have to now be the bearer of bad news. While what I have found so far was not much, the consensus seems that the merfolk's interactions with us are hardly ever without spite. 

It appears they are indeed the most dangerous for a sailor or a castaway only once they are in open waters, but that is of little consolation to those they have consumed. Many records mention the merfolk's siren song which they use to lure their, forgive me for putting this so bluntly, prey into their domain. They eat people, Zolf, and I do hope you are cautious enough not to be a part of their menu soon. 

Another devious detail I must mention is that many accounts describe them to only hunt in small swarms. It might be that there are more around your ship than you are aware of and I highly advise you to undertake the utmost precaution if you should decide to set sail again.

Only two accounts tell more of their behaviour aside from their hunting strategies and those focus on their curiosity. One scholar from over 100 years ago claims to have observed a pair of them exploring a shipwreck and playing with the items they found within. That, and the way the sailors describe their song as heavenly, are about the nicest facts I could find.

I worry a great deal about your safety and am waiting for any news you are willing to share, even if it is just single line that informs me you are doing fine.

Your friend,

Hamid

  


This one Zolf re-read multiple times over the course of the day and way into nightfall, coming back to a single passage - their diet. Zolf knew what swam in the sea, at least on its surface. The merfolk could probably not afford to be picky eaters and he could not attest them any malicious intent in eating anything that was alive. They were predators instead of prey. Such was the case for many creatures the civilised world deemed perfectly good on this earth. 

On top of that, regarding this particular merman, Zolf had a feeling that he had aquired a taste for different kinds of foods. He thought back to all the lunches he'd been missing those days onboard and had to grin. As long as Zolf could keep him satisfied with a regular lunch, he would be in no trouble.

The biggest outlier remained the book, still and, most likely, forever a sore spot for Zolf. He hadn't brought himself to buy another copy of it yet, no matter how much he loved the story itself, despite the now empty spot in his small bookshelf.

On a hunch, he shrugged off the blanket he'd wrapped around himself and marched to grab his coat and lantern once more. A few moments outside would not kill him and he needed the change of scenery. In his other hand, he held an opened can of biscuits. Zolf couldn't know if the merman would show up again after last time and he wasn't even sure, he lied to himself, if he wanted him to. 

Out on the landing stage, he was greeted by the ocean, small waves crashing and breaking against the wood, and his ship rising and falling proudly among them. He walked towards his ship, inspecting the hull out of habit and then casting his light out into the dark. There were no telltale signs, no omnious splashes, no colorful patterns. Zolf sighed quietly, wondering why he had even thought (hoped) anything or anyone would be out here. 

He was about to place the can of biscuits at the very end of the landing stage, when he took another look at the sea and the darkening sky ahead. The can would be blown or washed away immediately if he didn't find something to weigh it down. Looking around he spyed nothing but heavy rope. 

About ready to heft up some rope, he felt the telltale prickle at the back of his neck. Zolf looked up and listened but aside from a distinct impression that he was being watched, he found no real sign of the merman. "I brought you a little something, if you're hungry!", he shouted, keeping his eyes trained on the sea around the landing stage, waiting.

Nothing. The feeling of being watched did not leave him but he was not approached - and there was no way he would get into the water. "I understand that you're angry. Might have went a little... overboard... with that statement. My friends sent me something nice to snack, if ye want. I'll leave it here." Zolf placed the can down, despite the weather around him. "Better come pick it up before the sea gets it. The biscuits will crumble when they get wet. Best eat them up here!" He waited another moment, feeling a little silly, talking to - maybe - just thin air? How could he be sure? "Alright. I'll get out of your hair!", and that said, he turned his back and walked the small distance to his home.

The next morning, the can of biscuits was predictably gone. Zolf wished he could have said with certainty where to.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit heavier...  
> TW for possible drowning and feeling helpless in the face of the elements.

Chapter 5

Just another day and Zolf felt whatever illness had been troubling him was completely gone. Sitting at the table and eating his breakfast in quiet gusto, he spared a glance out at the sea. He couldn't wait. He'd been cooped up inside for too long. 

Hamid's letters were laying on the kitchen counter and whenever they caught Zolf's eyes, he couldn't help but smile. Sure, Hamid had written how "a single line" would be enough, but he found himself wanting to write more. Maybe even add a sketch or two? Considering the weather he might get some calm and dry moments out on the sea. Maybe even what artists would consider inspiration? There just wasn't anything to write, really, when all he'd done was sitting inside, waiting to get better.

Packing his lunches, his pencils and sketchbook, his hand remained hovering over the hunting knife Sasha had gotten him. Zolf didn't think, didn't feel like he would need it. On the other hand - this was a gift from Sasha. Not taking it felt like betrayal. Sighing to himself, he put it on his belt. 

\----------------

Out at sea, the weather hadn't been the best - or the worst. It was great for fishing and getting his mind off of things, but left little room for sketching. Maybe this was for the better, he thought, grumbling to himself as he pulled up the cowl of his jacket. He was a fisher, after all, and not an adventurer and certainly no artist. 

You helped out the city folk one time, got roped into one of their adventures or schemes and -boom- suddenly you end up with friends for life. Zolf chuckled. As far as he was concerned, he'd met the only good and best city folk out there, both just odd and stubborn enough to be endearing.

Taking a closer look at the waters around him, he caught himself looking FOR something- someone, wondering if maybe he wasn't alone. Admittedly, he wouldn't mind some company, even if it was an annoying fishperson. There'd been that sinking feeling again, that knowledge that someone was looking...

With one of his lunches in hand, he walked over to the railing, keeping a close eye on the waters below. Should he just toss it in? It would get soggy, wouldn't it? Why should he be waisting decent meals on an ungrateful thief anyway? Thinking better of it, he decided to throw in the one food that could float and wouldn't be immediately ruined: An apple. 

Over the course of the day, Zolf often looked for the merman, but would not spy head nor tail. More items had been thrown overboard: A bottle of cider, a sandwich (that one he regretted) and a sausage. The bottle he was able to make out for a longer time before it eventually, like the rest, was carried away. He never caught the bastard take anything but had a feeling he purposefully kept his distance.

After waisting way too much time at the railings and, when finally, a sunnier moment came along, he sat on his chair, overlooking the sea and began to sketch. His thoughts drifted back to the night at the landing stage and before, when he'd been joined by his friends on the ship. It took him a while to get back into the habit, with the first few doodles being mostly different kinds of fish, quickly becoming sketches of the coast, adding his friends standing at the railing from memory. Zolf continued to sketch, even as the first few droplets of rain began to ruin pieces of his work. He didn't mind. He could always dry the paper later, nothing to worry about for now. It wasn't raining that much.

A horrid, metallic sound chased him out of his thoughts and had him drop his sketchbook. His eyes quickly found the culprit: It was an empty can - no - THE empty can of biscuits! No longer empty, it must have contained some shells and coins, he noted after the initial shock. They lay scattered on deck. The lid bounced off the wooden flooring some more before it skittered and slithered to a stop, threatening to almost fall off the other end of the ship again. His first instinct was to go and check it out, but the merman's voice stopped him.

"What are you still doing here?!"

The tone of his voice had Zolf stop dead in his tracks for a moment. Granted, he hadn't heard the bastard talk much at all but now, he sounded absolutely horrified, the voice a lot shriller than he remembered. Zolf stood up and realized that the ship was rocking a lot more now - too much for just a bit of healthy wind and weather. The air had grown cold and fresh, stinging winds were whipping around his head.

His stomach dropped even before he turned to look at the approaching, dark weathering front that came for him from the sea behind. He couldn't muster a reply to the merman.

What followed were emergency procedures: First, he needed to take down the sails. (It was too dangerous and unpredictable and he really could do without a broken mast.) Then he had to get into the small cabin and get the engine going. He had to make sure to turn the ship and go straight back to familiar shores and hope, just hope that the oncoming storm wasn't as harsh and fast as it looked. Then pray he didn't crash against some of the steeper rocky parts of the coast. If it came down to it, he'd have to stay on the sea and hope he could ride this one out. It was his least favourite option.

Zolf, all on his own, managed to take down the sail, but it cost him. By the time he reached the small cabin, he earnestly cursed his peg leg for the first time in years. He could have been so much faster, if only... There hadn't even been time to take care of the net. He'd just have to buy a new one. It was fine, he told himself. Holding onto the railings he made it into the cabin. He got his small engine running and the ship to turn enough, against the rolling waves that were already relentlessly lifting and dropping him.

Damage control was all he could do at this point, he told himself over gritted teeth. The storm was close and there was no way he could outpace it. The heavy rain hammered down on the cabin, alternating between a steady stream of sound and deafening waves, whenever the wind decided to just hurl it all against his windows. Gripping the wheel tight, he could see how every wave turned his ship just a bit more, steering him off course. The angle he'd initially picked was impossible to hold and now, only moments later, the storm had fully caught up.

Where had he put the rope? He needed to make sure he could stay at the wheel or at least to not be thrown around in the small cabin by the onslaught of waves. Or should he try and sit it out outside, secured to the ship? But what if it keeled? He would be trapped underneath, bound to the-

A thundering wave crashed against the cabin, way higher and harder than it had any right to be at this rate. Zolf blinked as his ship began to drop again. He was suddenly overcome with fear at the dawning realisation that all these years of saying he wouldn't mind dying the way his brother did, that he wouldn't mind seeing him at the bottom of the sea - it had been nothing but lies. 

It was impossible to make out a horizon, but Zolf somehow felt that the ship was about to capsize. Gripping the steering wheel tight, he thought that he didn't want to die. And felt a pang of guilt at how horrible it would be for Hamid, to wait for a letter, to find an empty cabin and his friend's ship gone-

The next drop and crash sent Zolf flying onto the side of the cabin, hitting his head hard and he was thankful, with the little awareness he was granted before his vision went black, that this, at least, would mean a quick end and he wouldn't be conscious for the drowning part.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does not need warnings. :3 As a treat nothing horrible will happen! Yay!

He felt the gentle up and down of the waves and, unfortunately, his head throbbing accordingly. The waters were still far from calm and a bit of rain was still going. The good news, he thought, was that he was still alive. Wet and miserable and aching but alive. The pain was real and Zolf knew he did not deserve any god to punish him with an eternity of this.

Zolf became aware of an almost uncomfortable pressure around his waist and wondered if he was stuck somewhere. He groaned and tried to move, but he just felt so weak. At least the piece of flotsam kept him afloat.

And then the flotsam moved, on its own and against the waves. A ripple and a shift and Zolf heard someone say: "You're alive?" The voice sounded just as small and weak as he felt himself.

Zolf managed to open his eyes in spite of how heavy his eyelids were. He was lying, no, was securely held in place by the merman's tail, wich went around Zolf's midriff like a life belt. They were both adrift on the open sea.

He caught the merman turn his torso hesitantly, facing Zolf now instead of away. His body was riddled with small cuts. There were strange marks running down from the corner of his eyes and a fresh, particularly nasty looking gash on his right cheek. The merman looked almost intimidating like this, but his eyes and voice painted a different picture entirely.

Zolf coughed weakly and felt the tail loosen immediately, giving him more room. He took a deep breath to answer, but everything hurt. It hurt a lot less than it was supposed to, but it still took some effort to speak. "I'm... yeah. Alive."

"I'm glad."

If Zolf had been in a better shape he would have found this heart-warming, humble honesty endearing. They stared at each other for a long time, long enough for Zolf's brain to finally begin working in earnest once more. Actually, taking into account everything that happened, where WERE his cuts and bruises? As it stood, he felt horrible, but he was in surprisingly good shape, decidedly better than the merman was. "You, uh, you pulled me out of there, yes?."

The merman nodded as he laid down, resting on the side of his own tail and close to Zolf, with one of his arms even touching the dwarf's own. There was an almost dreamy smile on his face as he regarded him, looking up at him from elegant, long lashes.

"And you used some kind of healing magic?", Zolf pressed on, trying to ignore the look on the merman's face out of years of bad habit.

"Everything I had, as it were. I had to make sure..."

That, Zolf could believe. It certainly explained why the merman himself was still covered in cuts. There was another thought, something about caring and hope, but it was short-lived and not even fully formed, having come to a complete halt as he felt the other's fingers brush along the side of his arm. Then the entire hand started caressing him, and the ocean around them became very quiet and Zolf's heart very loud.

"I never got your name...", he said quielty.

It earned him a very amused chuckle from the other, but the eyes still held that same fondness and the hand did not stop. "You couldn't pronounce it." The merman sounded all too pleased with himself. 

"Try me."

He laughed and his eyes twinkled with mirth and something a little more playful. The strange lines from his eyes had slowly been washed away and he almost look like his old self now - if it weren't for the still lingering wound on his cheek... "I cannot decide, Zolf, if you are very, very good at this or very bad."

"At what exactly?" If the merman didn't give him his name he couldn't even try to pronounce it. It seemed hardly fair.

The merman said something and Zolf instantly knew he could not make these sounds with his vocal cords. They were very pretty sounds and definitely fitting as a name, but... "Sounds like 'wild' to me."

Another laugh. "You didn't even try."

"Call me a spoilsport then." He crossed his arms. Zolf knew it was all in good humor.

"And to think we've barely begun playing." Wilde's voice had dropped significantly and he'd drawn himself a little closer, his warm breath now tickling Zolf's arm. 

It sent shivers down Zolf's spine and there was no way he could ignore the intention behind this conversation any longer. To think he'd read all these Harrison Campell novels and he couldn't come up with anything to what Wilde had said? Angry at himself and, yes, very much flattered by that kind of attention, he couldn't keep the blush out of his face if he'd tried.

Wilde seemed very happy with that reaction and, for a moment, looked like he was about to deliver another verbal prod but thought the better of it. Instead he took in their surroundings, glanced back at Zolf, then back at the open sea. "As much as I enjoy having you,", he tightened the tail around Zolf again, very much making a point. "I do believe it would be best if you and I could rest for a bit. The shore is still a decent way ahead and I can only make so much distance with a dwarf on my back."

"Ah. Sounds about right, yeh.", he cleared his throat. The moment had passed. Reality had stepped back into the room. Zolf berated himself for not having been able to deliver a suitable comeback. There was no point denying that he just was more a scholar of romance than a practicioner. 

"Hold on then." Wilde turned, literally offering Zolf his bare back to hang on to.

Not sure just how much he actually wanted to touch the merman and considering the many cuts still visible on him, nobody could blame Zolf for hesitating to reach out.

"I could also carry you in my arms...?", Wilde suggested, still looking ahead. He gracefully gathered his hair and moved it out of the way, over his shoulder.

Zolf could do this. He took a deep breath and reached around Wilde's neck, not quite hanging on yet. "This alright?"

"I'll try not to enjoy it too much."

Zolf rolled his eyes. Wilde wasn't cold to the touch but also wasn't particularly warm, which made sense, considering he lived in the ocean. The moment Zolf settled against him, the merman unwrapped his tail from around him and began the long swim towards the shore.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a chat at a shore! And Wilde is blushing.

Chapter 7

Only a few moments in and Zolf wondered if it wouldn't have been better for Wilde to carry him after all. As it turned out, Wilde did not use his arms for swimming and Zolf picked up the subtle movements of his torso, wanting to be a natural extension of the snake-like motion. Wilde kept himself as steady as possible for his passengers' sake, opting to swim in longer arches. They made decent enough progress.

Wilde seemed to know exactly where he was heading. After a short while Zolf spotted a shoreline at the horizon. Not a moment too soon. As the sun was setting the water grew colder by the minute and without Wilde's tail around him it wasn't long before he could no longer surpress the shivers. His arms growing more and more tired, he noticed Wilde was not unaffected either. The merman was slowing down as well.

Both horrendously stubborn, neither spoke up first and once Wilde touched the sandy shore, he slumped down, burrowing his face in his arms and groaned. Zolf felt the bit of his tail directly below him stretch and, as he looked back, saw Wilde stretching it once, completely. He frowned when he saw that his prosthetic leg was gone. Hadn't even noticed that out on the open sea. Zolf immediately let go of him and touched the ground for the first time in a too long time, with one shaky leg, keeping a hand on Wilde's back to keep himself steady. 

Wilde turned and Zolf staggered, landing on his butt. It didn't matter. He was already thoroughly soaked after all and the water only reached the middle of his chest. Zolf watched Wilde draw his tail in and massaging it. The poor creature looked absolutely drained. At least his cuts and the bigger wound on his cheek were no longer bleeding.

"You look like shit.", Zolf said and immediately regretted his choice words.

"Oh reeeally? And whose fault is that, mh?" Wilde sneered, almost hissed at him, but even in the setting sun, Zolf could see it lacked any real bite and was overshadowed by his fatigue. 

"Sorry, alright?" He was really terrible at this, wasn't he? "I'll make you something nice. A pie, maybe, if you want."

"No no no no. First, you will actually say 'Thank you.'. It appears to be a big deal for your people so I expect nothing less. And second, as a way of letting me know how sorry you are for insulting your saviour, you will make me something fancy, extraordinary even!"

Oh, Wilde was right about that one. His mind had been reeling with all sorts of thoughts and he'd actually forgotten to thank him. Now he felt even more miserable. "Pie it is then." Zolf nodded. "And thank you."

"Pie?", Wilde asked, sounding insulted and didn't acknowledge his thanks in any way. "That doesn't sound fancy at all. It's way too short of a name." The merman sighed, stretched his tail one last time and turned to lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

Zolf chuckled, watching his little performance. "Wilde's a short name too." He saw Wilde openly gasp and put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. Before the other got to say another word, a violent shiver shook through Zolf.

"Oh dear." The merman paused and seemed to be lost in thought for a moment as he surveyed the area. "And to think we're still a decent swim from your home."

"S'alright. I think I know where we are." Zolf had spotted the long stretch of beach and telltale island from afar. The first lights of the distant city were only now flickering against the darkening sky. "That over there should be Weymouth. We're on the western shore. There's some villages around 'ere, for sure." He looked up the stretch of sand, further up to a small pathway and fields and was struck by a peculiar sight of what looked like a small, organized forest. "That could be the Gardens. Yeah, sure are. Abbotsbury's up that way." Looking at Wilde he saw that he was trying to follow his gaze and gestures but there was, of course, no recognition on his face. "I just- I'm sure I can make it. A good night's sleep and I'm good as new. They have at least one inn there and the people are alright."

Wilde shook his head. "Absolutely not. You can't walk! How will you make it up there?"

Blast! "I just need a crutch." Zolf searched his immediate vicininty, but had no luck (of course). The driftwood that was in his reach was too short and, aside from that, nothing caught his eye. Really, a thicker branch or a broken paddle? Nothing!

"Just give me a moment to breathe and I can take you the rest of the way."

Why was Wilde's voice so nice? Probably magic, Zolf figured. A beckoning siren's call and all that. He didn't protest his proposition and ignored the gushes of wind biting at his skin. Instead of leaving the water, he laid back, letting it cover him as much as possible. It was cold, but not as cold as out at the open sea. Definitely magic, he thought again and nodded to himself. "I've never heard you sing before, haven't I?"

The merman groaned. "I'll sing you a song some time, I promise. Right now I'm way too tired. Why don't you sing me one? Do ut des, et cetera?" [1]

Zolf didn't understand the second question. Not only was it a language he clearly did not speak, but the first one had simply caught him off guard. "Hold on. Me? Singing?" He laughed. What a downright silly suggestion. "Why would you think I-?" He remembered. It all made sense now. His lunches, his trinkets disappearing - it had all started shortly after he'd had an outstanding great day at sea. For no reason in particular, he'd found himself in such a good mood and had sung a handful of shanties.[2] Couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes.

The sun was setting, draining the world of its color, but Zolf could tell Wilde was blushing and, painfully obviously, deflecting. "So we're ready to go then, hm? No time to waste." 

Zolf sighed. "So what if my singing isn't half bad? Big whoop." Meanwhile, Wilde was already up and running (figuratively speaking), checking the deeper waters at a safe distance. "A little honesty isn't going to kill you!", Zolf shouted after him.

"Yes!", he shouted cheerfully and drew closer again. "Yes, we're good to go. I'm sure I can make it all the way to your meager land-dwelling."

Shaking his head, he felt himself grow more and more frustrated with Wilde. Antics were fine \- fun and games and all - but he was certain Wilde was just, just what? Playing dumb? Withdrawing? But for what reason?

"All set then? Ready to go? Oh, no more shivers?" His tone was playful and hinting at an aloofness Zolf could now tell was more for show. Because he was tired himself and chilled to the bone, he didn't bring any of this up again. For now. They'd have to settle on a stalemate until Zolf was warm again and any arguments would have to wait, presuming the oncoming cold did not kill him.

[1] "Do ut des, et cetera?" - Latin. transl: "I give so that you give, and so on."  
[2] I come prepared. Please find "Storm Weather Shanty Choir" and look for their songs   
"Mingulay Boat Song" and "Shamrock Shore". Please!


End file.
